Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Inside the Labryinth

I'm finally calmed down enough to write this entry. The images from last night are permanently burned in my retina, so I can't forget them, no matter how hard I try to or want to. All that blood, all that panic...all that I saw...

Okay...okay...

We hit the warehouse at around seven forty-five. Small team; I was the only detective. We went in through the front entrance, two at a time, except me, who went in last. I would have rather gone in first...although now that I think on it, I would rather not have gone in at all.

We organized in the lobby, and again, I chose to go by myself. The adrenaline rush was giving me an added sense of awareness. I had my gun out, and something told me I would be using it before the night was over. So we split up, and I went through the right-hand door with my gun drawn.

Thinking about it now, the dying sounds of the team's footsteps was the most ominous and despairing thing I had ever heard.

I don't know what Conaghan was using this place for, but in all the major shipping rooms there's nothing in them aside from crates and barrels scattered all around, and paper flying everywhere. I forgot to check if this place was actually still operational or not. Guess it really doesn't matter now. I didn't see anyone around.

I had the flashlight in one hand, and my gun in the other hand, and I had the flashlight hand over the gun hand like you see in the movies. Both were up, the light to see where I was going, and the gun to scare someone into submission, and failing at that...well, it WAS loaded.

Those hallways were dark, and they kept branching off to other parts of the building. It felt like I was navigating the labyrinth as I made my way through them. Once or twice I'm pretty sure I ended up in the same room more than once, going in circles. I was getting pretty disoriented, and I had barely been in there an hour.

It was around the second hour or so that my walkie went off. I lowered my flashlight to grab it, and with the flashlight pointing at the ground I felt like I was surrounded by a void. I brought the walkie to my mouth to respond.

“Li...'s...n th...ildin...he...n...ke re...ond...”

Whoever was on the end must have had shit reception. I asked them to repeat it, but the second time was just static. I tapped it with the flashlight, and then this white noise blew my fucking eardrums up, so I finally just turned it off. I figured there must have been a tower down or something, I don't really know.

So I kept going, same stance as before. For some reason, this cloud of paranoia was hovering over my head, I just could not keep calm. My breathing was getting pretty heavy, my head was looking all over, keeping one eye peering over my shoulder just in case someone was following me. Felt like every five minutes I was turning around with my gun out to make sure I wasn't being followed.

I was more paranoid than normal. I don't even care anymore. I don't think I'll ever stop being paranoid ever again.

Three hours in now...was it that much? I don't know, time has gone out the window for me, it could have all been done in an hour for all I know...it felt like three hours in, so I'm going to just go with that...

Three hours in, I finally found this door. I probably would have passed right by it if something hadn't smacked against it. It might have been a kick...the more I think about it, the more I'm certain that it was a kick. But it was this big iron door, with a simple knob.

I tried opening it, but it was locked. I threw my weight against, tried kicking it, it was not budging. Now I was sure something was back there- why lock something unless something was important in there?- and I aimed my gun to shoot the knob off when-

This loud scream echoed through the hallways. A woman's scream. At first I thought there was an officer down...but our group didn't have any women among us.

So I said fuck the door. Someone was in here- Conaghan apparently worked fast- and needed help. So I took off back the way I had come.

Only, remember how I said I was navigating a maze? I had no idea where I had come from or which way I was supposed to be going. I must have slammed into ten different walls, and the dying batteries in my flashlight were not making things any easier. At one point, I cut my arm on something, not sure what...it left a nice little scratch, bleeding quite a bit. Not deep enough to get infected, I found out later, but that's besides the point. I'd lose the fucking arm if I could just get things back to normal.

I will never forget when I came to that fork. It was the way I was coming, then the option to either go straight or take a right. It didn't look familiar at all, and I should have checked my corners before I did anything, but I took the right anyway and...

Heh...I guess this is the part where you all say “I told you so”. I suppose I deserve it, but...I didn't think karma would bite me that hard. If I could take it all back I would, but...I suppose this is what I deserve, but...

I saw it. Him. Whatever the fuck you people call him, he was THERE.

I took that right and I brought my flashlight and gun up and there he was, standing right there in the middle of the hallway and at first glance I thought it was Conaghan...God, they look so similar...but once I got to the face, I froze. He stood at six, six and a half feet tall...maybe seven feet, I don't know, I didn't measure him. His face...well, he HAD no face, but it still felt like his eyes were boring right into me as his head was bent at that weird angle as though he found me curious. He wore that suit that looked like a formal version of Mr. Rogers' outfit, and his arms...his fucking ARMS...they were bent at that awkward angle that made him look like he was going to give you a hug. Although now that I recall it more vividly, his arms looked like they were...changing.

I couldn't move at first; it felt like someone had glued me in place. I tried to form a complete sentence, but the only thing I could really choke out was, “Oh, fuck ME.”

Then he took a step towards me, and I snapped out of it. I raised my gun and fired five bullets right at his chest, then turned and ran out of there like a bat out of hell. I don't know if any of those bullets actually hit him, I don't really care, I just got the hell out of there. He might have been chasing me, or he might have just been trying to scare me. I hope I never know.

I ran faster than I had ever run in my life. Every single horrible memory from my childhood came flooding back to me all at once; every ounce of fear for the dark that I had ever felt in my life, twelve years of it, hitting me like a tidal wave. I remembered things that I didn't even know had happened, remembered things that I had tried to repress my entire life. I ran and I ran and I ran and I turned every corner and hurdled myself over every obstacle until something tripped me. I rolled and made sure my gun was up and-

It was a body. A fucking body. Right in the middle of the hallway. She was covered in blood, and there were cuts and slices from her face to her feet. The knife was still in her chest, covered in her blood. She was still breathing, but it was raspy, and me tripping over her leg probably didn't help her much. I stood over her, trying to see her face, and when she looked up at me with those big Bambi eyes, I just...

“No...no...”

She followed me here. Even after I told her to stay at the station where it was safe, she just couldn't let it go. That's what the voice on the walkie was trying to tell me; that she had come in and had taken off after me. Then she got lost, and Conaghan...came up behind her...with the knife, and...

I knelt beside her and cradled her in my arms. The knife was sticking right out of her chest, the handle resting against her breast, and I thought that it was in her heart. If that were the case, it would be too dangerous to pull it out. But with wounds like this...unless a doctor showed up soon...

I shouted down the hallway for a doctor, for the team, for ANYONE to help. Then she looked up at me and smiled, then muttered something that almost sounded like her throat gurgling. I leaned in to hear her, and she placed her blood-stained hand on my shirt as she whispered into my ear.

“It's your turn now...I'll see you soon, Zeke...”

She didn't say anything more. And as her hand fell off my chest I lifted my head back in time to see the last signs of life leave her once lively, once beautiful face.

I don't know how long I was there for. Minutes, hours...doesn't matter. All I know is when they finally found us I was kneeling, cradling a blood-covered corpse that had once been my partner, my best friend, covered in her blood and tears streaming down my face. Then they pulled us out...

We didn't find Conaghan. We didn't find Eric. We didn't find Slender Man. All they found was one officer dead on the inside, and one officer just plain dead.

I don't know what to do. I'm still paranoid. I can't get these thoughts out of my head...I can't get her face, or His, out of my head...

I'm scared now...it took a couple of months, but I'm officially scared.

11 comments:

If I were you (and I'll be honest, I'm glad I'm not in your situation) I would ask the chief to partner me up with another member of the force. There's a reason why every military uses the buddy system. If nothing else, it gives you perspective.

Seriously, don't try to go all John Wayne. If another situation like this shows up, do not run in alone.

Oh, and what I meant by "Remember who *you* are" is this: the reason why you have these memories now, instead of earlier, could be that Lizzie's stories got into your head.

I don't know if you were a policeman in the 90's, but all over America people were discovering "repressed memories" of sexual abuse, satanic rituals, all kinds of crazy shit. They were finding this through hypnosis, or sometimes just talk therapy. As it turns out, these people were just impressionable, and the questioners/hypnotherapists were asking leading questions, causing the imagination to come up with wildly horrific stories.

You've been through a lot of stress lately Zeke. Stress puts you off your feet and you need to get firmly grounded.

The people who died have it worse than those still alive. The Archangel will take any soul he can get so he can add them to his repertoir of appearances.The only exeptions are those lucky enough to be killed by another fear or to die far enough away from Archy so he can't take them.There are more things out there than just Slendy, you know?

I don't know if Zeke pertains to the Fear Mythos or just Slendy, bud. If it's just the Faceless Wonder, Archie has no power here. I guess I'd have to keep reading to find out myself, but I really don't think this blog has anything to do with any of the Fears. None are mentioned, and you're the first person to make that assumption, albeit we're all speaking to ghosts now.